Vengeance
by BlackFyre94
Summary: The world burns as Merlin seeks revenge for Arthur's death. One-shot although now with an alternate ending , Merlin/Arthur but nothing too slashy. Very dark. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Erm, this is a bit dark. Slightly slashy, nothing too serious. Enjoy (maybe that's the wrong word to use here...)**

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They brought King Arthur to him in the grey hours before dawn, before the first tendrils of sunlight had begun to streak across the sky. Even from a distance, it was clear to see from the slow, burdened steps of the knights bearing his body, that the king was dead. Merlin could have used his magic to discern the cause of the king's death, but he didn't. He had no wish to know, and at the same time, he wanted to know. Wanted to know who had killed his love. As the knights came closer, the warlock could see that there was an arrow buried deep in the king's chest, only the very end of the shaft protruding from his flesh. Tiny droplets of blood spotted the king's lips and his eyes, once so full of life and love, were now glassy, staring up at the heavens above.

Merlin looked up at the knight in front of him and his black eyes like hollows of liquid shadow asked the question that he couldn't trust to his voice.

"Mordred" said the knight, his head bowed out of respect for the dead king's memory. "Mordred was there"

Merlin cast his mind out over the battlefield where the fight still raged, where swords clashed with screams of pain and horror as the grass became slick and treacherous with the spilt blood of the hundreds – thousands - called to war by King Arthur. And by Mordred, the sorcerer, grown from a child to a proud, arrogant man since the last time Merlin had seen him. Merlin looked back to mere minutes before, when Arthur was killed and saw an arrow, guided by Mordred's magic flying to strike down the king.

If Merlin noticed the shudders of the men around him when he let loose the restraint on his magic, he gave no sign of it. His eyes had stopped flashing golden a long time ago, instead glowing a poisonous, thick black. His magic was taking control – had taken control. And Arthur was the only one that could stop it. Ever since Hunith, Gwen, Morgana had died, ever since his family had left him, Arthur was the only one he had left, the only one there through the endless nights of pain, and tears, as Merlin slowly realised he was becoming what he abhorred the most. A murderer. No mere man was meant to have so much power, lest he become a monster. And monster Merlin had become. And now, now his love, his life was dead, he found he didn't care. More than that, he relished it, welcomed it. He could kill them all – could and would. They would all suffer, they would all die screaming in agony and torment, and Merlin could lose himself in the sweet embrace of their screams, he could savour the feeling of their deaths. And if a tiny, unnoticed, unheeded part of his soul was screaming along with them, as yet more of his true self was lost to the killing, well, that was a small price to pay for vengeance.

Mordred died first. He was hidden behind a cloak of magic as he commanded his armies, like the conductor of some terrible orchestra, but that didn't save him. Merlin opened himself up to his power completely, let it blaze through his veins instead of trying to fight it, and felt like he could outshine the sun. With one thought, he crushed the spark of Mordred's life with no effort whatsoever and Mordred toppled down, dead, to the floor. But that wasn't enough, wasn't nearly enough to pay for Arthur's death. Archers in Mordred's army dropped their bows, yelling with pain as they grew hot then burst into flame, then soldiers on both sides threw down their swords as the steel began to melt and run like candle wax. Merlin didn't care who he killed, just as long as they died. "His" side and "their" side had lost all distinction for him and he just wanted to hold their lives in his hands. As one, every man on the battlefield fell to his knees, shrieking like the denizens of Hell were possessing him. Some men clawed out their own eyes as they saw Merlin, blazing in all his glory. He was too much for their merely human minds to behold – they went mad rather than try to comprehend what they saw. Others fell deep inside themselves, their minds shutting down completely, leaving nothing but empty husks, shells of what they used to be, dead in all but name. Merlin grinned, a child again, playing with life and death like they were toys. And then, like a child, he grew bored of his game and cast his toys away, the broken bodies of men lying limp on the ground, men never to return home to the wives that they loved and the children that loved them, never again to see another sunrise over the land that they were a part of. Men cast beyond the boundaries of Life and into Death far before their time.

Merlin laughed to see them there and earthquakes rent the land, killing yet more innocents – women, children that had done no wrong. But they were alive, and Arthur wasn't, and that fact alone was enough to condemn them. Merlin frowned and dark roiling clouds boiled in the skies. He looked at the castle of Camelot and lightning struck it, over and over until nothing remained but charred, smoking ruins.

Merlin's will encompassed the entire world until he held every living thing in his clutches, and then he paused. Would Arthur want him to honour his memory like this? He almost relinquished his grasp on the world but the magic still burning through him drove him on like a malevolent spirit inside him, relentlessly filling his head with memories of Arthur until Merlin had to block out the pain, the loss by killing everything left alive. Bodies lay everywhere he looked, trees withered and died instantly and not even the scavengers were left to pick at the corpses. Still not satisfied, Merlin set the world aflame, just to watch it burn, and he flew on, born on wings of magic through the fire, unscathed. And still, there was a hole inside of him that wouldn't go away. Soaring through the sky, faster than sound, faster than light, he left the burning remains of his planet and journeyed on through stars. Seeking vengeance…

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**What did you think? Review it please :)**


	2. Alternate Ending

**'Kay, I know I said this was a one-shot fic but I have a alternate ending to it (i,e, this), so mucho thanks to Shadows for the idea :)**

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Merlin laughed to see them there and earthquakes rent the land, killing yet more innocents – women, children that had done no wrong. But they were alive, and Arthur wasn't, and that fact alone was enough to condemn them. Merlin frowned and dark roiling clouds boiled in the skies. He looked at the castle of Camelot and lightning struck it, over and over until nothing remained but charred, smoking ruins.

Merlin's will encompassed the entire world until he held every living thing in his clutches, and then he paused. Would Arthur want him to honour his memory like this? Unbidden, memories filled Merlin's head, memories of Arthur, of the pair of them, laughing together, of all the time they had spent together, of the tears and pain that Arthur had vanquished with his touch, his love, his kiss. This killing, no, this slaughter, in Arthur's name, for Arthur, because of Arthur – this was not right. Merlin cried and the earth cried with him, rain falling from the sky to land on the bodies below, to land on the people that he had killed. Merlin fought with his magic, fought for control of his life, and the lives of every living thing on the planet. Even in death, Arthur helped him; every malicious thought, every poisonous voice sowing the seeds of doubt and temptation was denied entrance to Merlin's mind by his memories of Arthur, helping him, guiding him, showing him the way out of the darkness. At last, the battle was won; the seas and wind calmed, the angry black sky banished by the first pale rays of the sun.

Neither Merlin, nor his lover was ever seen again.


End file.
